I will leave the Chicadees and their companions to speak of another class of birds of different character and habits:  these are the Jays, and their sable-plumed congeners of the Crow family.  In all parts of the country that abound in woods of any description, we are sure to be greeted by the loud voice of the Blue Jay, one of the most conspicuous tenants of the forest.  He has a beautiful outward appearance, under which he conceals an unamiable temper and a propensity to mischief.  Indeed, there is no other bird in our forest that is arrayed in equal splendor.  His neck of fine purple, his pale azure crest and head with silky plumes, his black crescent-shaped collar, his wings and tail-feathers of bright blue with stripes of white and black, and his elegant form and vivacious manners, combine to render him attractive to all observers.

But with all this beauty, he has, like the Peacock, a harsh voice; he is a thief, and a disturber of the peace.  He is a sort of Ishmael among the sylvan tribes, who are startled at the sound of his voice, and fear him as a bandit.  The farmer, who is well acquainted with his habits, is no friend to him; for he not only takes what is required for his immediate wants, but hoards a variety of articles in large quantities for future use.  It would seem as if he were aware when he was engaged in an honest and when in a dishonest expedition; for while searching for food in the the wood or open field, he is extremely noisy,—­but when he ventures into a barn, to take what does not belong to him, he is silent and stealthy, and exhibits all the peculiar manners of a thief.

It would be no mean task to enumerate all the acts of mischief perpetrated by this bird; and I cannot but look upon him as one the most guilty of the feathered tribe.  He plunders the cornfield both at seed-time and harvest; he steals everything that is eatable, and conceals it in his hoarding-places; he destroys the eggs of smaller birds and devours their young; he quarrels with all other species, and his life is a constant scene of contentions.  He is restless, pugnacious, and irascible, and always seems like one who is out on some expedition.  Yet, though a pest to other birds, he is a watchful parent and a faithful guardian of his off-spring.  It is dangerous to venture near the nest of a pair of Jays, as they immediately attack the adventurer, aiming their blows at his face and eyes with the most savage determination.

Like the Magpie, the Jay has considerable talent for mimicry, and in a state of domestication may be taught to articulate words like a Parrot.  At certain times I have heard this bird utter a few notes resembling the tinkle of a bell, and which, if syllabled, might form such a word as dilly-lily; but it is not a musical strain.  Indeed, there is no music in his nature, and in all his imitations of other sounds he prefers the harsh to the melodious, such as the voice of the Hawk, the Owl, and other unmusical birds.